Wisdom and Fuss (A McRoll in the REAL World Story)
by ilna
Summary: Catherine shares memories with Steve from her childhood journal.


**Notes:** Mari and Sammy – It's been three years this month since we "met" and I am forever grateful we did! I can't imagine my life without you now.

Readers and REAL McRollers – Thank you for the marathon love! Your support and enthusiasm is truly a gift.

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 _Wisdom and Fuss (A McRoll in the REAL World Story)_

Catherine was reading on the sofa when Cammie's body language signalled Steve's arrival. The sound of keys jingling in the lock a moment later confirmed it, and she turned toward the door as it opened and he came through.

"Hey, I'm sorry I'm late," he said, dropping his keys on the end table and greeting Cammie who had stood to meet him.

Catherine smiled, putting her book on the coffee table. "That's okay." She kissed him when he leaned down. "You wrap the case?"

"Yeah, suspect's in custody." He straightened and took a step back, then knelt to take off his shoes.

"Good."

"I'm sorry I missed dinner."

"It's okay, Steve. There's eggplant parmesan in the fridge."

"Ooh," he said with interest, "sounds good."

"Yeah," she said noncommittally.

He eyed her for a moment. "Okay, what'd you have?"

She paused, biting her lip, and he gave her a knowing look.

"Tuna salad sandwich and a Toaster Strudel," she said finally.

"Toaster Strudel?"

"Okay, two Toaster Strudels," she admitted.

"We have Toaster Strudels?"

"We–"

"We do now," he finished with a chuckle. He paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Wait, what's a Toaster Strudel?"

"They're like … fancy Pop Tarts."

He laughed heartily, finally getting both shoes off.

"They're really good," she insisted, grinning.

Chuckling, he straightened. "I'm sure."

"I had tuna salad, too," she reiterated.

He snorted. "Yeah, sounds like a winning combination."

She grinned, sliding over as he moved to sit beside her. "Anyway … so there's plenty of eggplant parm, I can heat it up for you real quick."

"No, no, stay put, I'll do it in a minute." He nodded at the book on the coffee table. "Whatcha got there? I don't recognize it."

She followed his gaze. "Oh, this is uh …" She laughed and picked up daisy-colored book. "This is my journal from when I was a kid. Mom found it in their basement when she was cleaning out some boxes and sent it to me."

He looked surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, there's some good stuff in here," she said, flipping through the pages.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Why don't you go get cleaned up, I'll heat up your dinner, and then we can read some together," she suggested.

"You're gonna show me what's in your diary?"

"Journal," she corrected.

"What's the difference?"

"Mmm …" She thought for a moment. "No lock?"

He snorted. "Sounds like semantics to me, Rollins." He nodded at the journal. "You're really gonna show me what's in there?"

She shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"I don't know, aren't those things private? I remember when Gracie got a diary for her ninth birthday, she said she finally had a place to put all her juicy secrets."

Catherine laughed. " 'Juicy secrets'?"

"That's what she said." He shrugged. "I don't know. I figured it was a girl thing."

Chuckling, she shook her head. "Well, I don't think I have any juicy secrets in here. Sorry to disappoint." She smiled softly. "But even if I did, there's nothing I wouldn't share with you, Steve. You already know me inside and out."

He returned her smile and leaned over to kiss her lingeringly. "Back at you," he murmured. After another quick kiss, he sat back, slapping his thighs, then stood. "Okay, I'm gonna clean up."

"I'll get you something to eat."

"Then we'll read your diary," he said as he headed up the stairs.

"Journal," she called after her.

He tossed a smirk back over his shoulder. "Right."

"Smartass," she said, rolling her eyes and standing to head to the kitchen with Cammie at her heels.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later they were back on the sofa. Steve swallowed a bite of his dinner and said, "Not that I mind, but what's with our relatives sending us packages lately? First Aunt Deb, now your mom …"

"I don't know," Catherine said. "Probably because we're going to be parents now, they're finding more they want to share with us." She picked up the journal, thumbing through it.

"How old were you when you wrote that?" he asked.

"Got it for my eighth birthday from Aunt Louise."

He smiled softly at the mention of her aunt.

"She knew I was feeling a little scared about starting at a new school." She glanced at him. "That was the first one."

He squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled back.

"She thought it might help if I wrote down what I was feeling," she continued. She opened the front cover and he smiled to see _Catherine Anne Rollins 1986_ inscribed there.

"You had very nice handwriting for an eight-year-old," he observed, then grinned. "Not that that's a surprise."

She smiled back.

He ate the final bite of his dinner and put the plate on the coffee table. Sitting back on the sofa, he pulled her with him and they stretched out comfortably together. His hand drifted to her belly, his fingers moving gently against her bump. "All right, let's hear the juicy secrets of Catherine Anne Rollins, 1986."

Chuckling, she turned to the first page. "From my birthday," she said and began to read. " _Today I am 8 and I am going to a new school next week. I liked my old school and my old teacher but I know I would have a new teacher any way at my old school for 3rd grade. Daddy is on the Vinson and I miss him. But he left me a special card for my birthday and it said when he gets back we are going to get a puppy! I already know what I will name him. Salty because we live by the ocean now and Mom says we can smell the salt in the air.._ "

"You also have excellent spelling for an eight-year-old," Steve said.

She glanced back at him and smiled. "Children's Dictionary," she said. "Present from Uncle Greg and Aunt Jean. I remember looking up every word I didn't know so it took a while to write an entry."

He grinned.

She turned back to the journal. " _I am kind of scared about my new school. Grandma Ang said every one will like me because I am a very nice girl but I still have butterflies in my tummy. What if all the other kids know each other from last year and I am the only new girl? They might not want any more friends."_

Steve's arm tightened around her as she finished that entry. She paused, getting lost in the feelings the memory evoked.

After a moment, he said, "Well, don't leave me in suspense here, Rollins, did the other kids like you?"

She smiled at him, knowing he was purposely lightening the moment. "They did. Most of them, anyway."

"Because you are a very nice girl," he said and kissed her temple. "Always believe Grandma Ang."

"Always." She flipped a couple pages. " _I like my new school! My teacher is Mr. McCormack and he is really nice and funny. He tells us stories called greek myths and he said he is going to teach us how to play chess. I said I know how to play and he said I could help him teach the other kids! And there is a girl named Christina who was at my bus stop and she is in my class too and she asked if I wanted to come to her house after school some time! It was a good day. I was scared at first and Mom asked if I wanted her to take me to school but I said I was going to be brave like Daddy and I went on the bus all by myself. But on the way home Christina sat with me and Mom was waiting at the bus stop after school and she met Christina and said we could play together so now I have a friend!"_

"And all is well," he said with a smile.

"Making a friend certainly helps," she agreed.

"Did you stay in touch with her after you moved?"

"For a little while," she said. "But we were young, we both made new friends."

He nodded.

"But I'll always be grateful," she said. "She made that scary first day a lot better."

He smiled, and she flipped several pages to find another entry to read. She scanned a page and said, "Ohh, I remember this. It's from a few months later. Here, listen: _We have a writing assignment and I don't know what to do. We have to write about our home and other kids were talking about the houses they have lived in their whole lives but I just moved here and I don't think I have lived here long enough to say it's home. But I don't think I am supposed to write about our old home because we don't live there any more. I'm going to ask Mom what I should write."_ She glanced back at him. "I was really worried. I'd never not done an assignment but I didn't know what to do."

"Elizabeth to the rescue?"

Catherine smiled. "As always." She turned to the next page and read the next entry. " _I know what I'm going to write for my assignment. I told Mom about it and she put on her favorite music and she took me to the sofa and sat down by me. She said home isn't always a place. It's a feeling. And it comes from being with the people you love. Some people feel it in their house, but other people like us feel it when we are with our family or when something reminds us of our family. Like food or music or a game or something like that. So I'm going to write that home is eating my grandma's ragu and listening to music with my mom and hearing my daddy's voice when he comes back. And I can do those things anywhere. So long as I am with my family."_

Steve kissed her head. "Your mother is very wise."

"Yes, she is."

"Like mother, like daughter."

She smiled back at him, then said, "I hope I'm half as wise."

"You're gonna be amazing," he said with feeling. "You already are."

She leaned up to kiss him. "So are you." Looking back at the journal, she flipped to a particular date. "Look, I read this one earlier," she said. " _It's Daddy's birthday today. I wish he was here but I know he is protecting our country and I am very proud of him. If I ever have kids, I want them to have a daddy like mine. Brave and nice and tall._ " She turned back to Steve, her hand joining his on her stomach. "And they will."

He kissed her again. "Height's an important trait?"

"To my eight-year-old self, apparently." She smiled. "But the first two are more important to my _thirty_ -eight-year-old self."

He smiled softly, kissing her once more.

As she returned to thumbing through the latter half of the journal, he said, "I'm glad your mom sent this. We can show Niblet was his or her mommy was like when she was a kid …"

Catherine shut the book suddenly.

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"Nothing, I …"

His smile grew. "What'd you read? Something embarrassing?"

"No, it's just …"

"You said there weren't any juicy secrets–"

"It's not a juicy secret." She rolled her eyes, opening the book again and looking for the page. "Here." She moved it over so he could read it.

" _I kissed Jeremy Tan today at recess,_ " he read. He looked down at her in exaggerated surprise. "Kissed? Maybe we shouldn't show this to Niblet."

She rolled her eyes again. "Not a real kiss. Just a peck on the lips. That barely counts."

"Still, only eight years old." He clucked his tongue.

"How old were you?"

"Seven."

She snorted.

He grinned and turned his attention back to the journal. Laughing, he read, " _I don't get what all the fuss is about. It was over in a second and then we played kickball. My team won._ " He looked at her, his expression full of mirth. "Priorities, I see."

She grinned back.

Still laughing, he put the book on the coffee table and shifted so they were lying on their sides.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

His voice dropped low. "I'm gonna show you what all the fuss is about," he said and pressed his lips to hers.

She laughed through the kiss and pulled him closer.

"Read more later?" she asked, slightly breathless when they broke the kiss.

"Much later," he murmured, his lips inches from hers. "There's gonna be a lot of fuss."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

Special happy birthday to my dad!

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